


braceface

by youaremarvelous



Series: Yuri!!! on Ice Tumblr Drabbles [11]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, a brief mention of Yuuri at the end, and related shenans, vitya with braces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaremarvelous/pseuds/youaremarvelous
Summary: Viktor is nineteen when he finally decides to get braces. His dentist has been recommending them for a good few years at this point—to fix a small gap between his front teeth and some minor misalignment in the bottom row—but it took a comment from his (soon to be ex) boyfriend at the time to finally push him to schedule the appointment with the orthodontist.





	braceface

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get the thought of a teenaged Vitya with braces out of my head, so I wrote a drabble about it.
> 
> If you're curious, [here's my artistic representation](http://youremarvelous.tumblr.com/post/171095441128/youremarvelous-i-couldnt-get-teen-vitya-with) of what Vitya with braces might look like.

Viktor is nineteen when he finally decides to get braces. His dentist has been recommending them for a good few years at this point—to fix a small gap between his front teeth and some minor misalignment in the bottom row—but it took a comment from his (soon to be ex) boyfriend at the time to finally push him to schedule the appointment with the orthodontist. **  
**

 

‘ _It’s a shame_ —’ Viktor can feel the ghost of a thumb against his cheek, fingers dug a little too firmly into the delicate skin behind his ear while the doctor scrapes at his teeth with disconcertingly sharp metal tools—‘Y _ou’d be perfect if not for your teeth_.’ He peeks his eyes open when he feels the doctor pause and press on the top of his mouth with the blunt side of his instrument.

 

“Wha’s wron’?” Viktor asks around the fingers in his mouth.

 

The doctor raises his eyebrows. Viktor can just make out a sharp intake of breath through the crinkling of his paper mask. “Looks like there’s some minor bruising on your soft palate.”

 

The doctor draws his hands back and Viktor wipes at his chin with the back of his hand. “Is that bad?”

 

“Not bad, exactly, but—”

 

“What causes it?” Viktor scoots up in the seat and tucks a long strand of hair behind his ear.

 

“Repeated trauma, usually,” the doctor rifles with something on his tray stand, shooting Viktor a quick glance over his shoulder. “You’re a professional skater, right? We can see about getting you fitted for a mouthguard to prevent damaging your palate when you fall.”

 

Viktor offers an impish smile, peering up at the doctor through his eyelashes. “I don’t fall.”

 

Two relatively pain-free hours later finds Viktor studying himself in a hand mirror, running his tongue over the new metal brackets cramming up his mouth.

 

“Sorry about the taste,” the doctor says, his hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “It’ll wear off soon.”

 

It’s no worse than the taste of the after appointment revenge blowjob Viktor gives his (now official) ex. It felt like poetic justice at the time— to threaten the guy with the fruit of the insecurity he bore—but Viktor kind of regrets it later that night when the pain finally sets in—a dull throbbing ache in his jaw—and he doesn’t have anyone to send to the pharmacy for more painkillers. His annoyance is redoubled in the morning when he’s forced to spend a good ten minutes untangling pubes from his brackets.

 

Viktor trudges to practice after his extended morning routine, making a mental note to suggest adding “dick” to the list of restricted food items next time he goes to the orthodontist for an adjustment. At the rink, he falls for the first time in weeks and spends the rest of the afternoon trying to cram in an emergency dentist appointment while holding a bloody rag to his shredded lip.

 

“I can’t take this,” Viktor groans to the star-studded sky when he’s turned away at a bar in Paris for looking too young during the Trophée Eric Bompard. “I’m getting these stupid things removed as soon as I get home.”

 

“It’s only been a few months,” Chris reasons, barely concealing an amused smile. “Surely, they’re not that bad.”

 

“I can’t even eat apples.  _Apples_!” Viktor slumps on the curb, drops his elbows on his knees. “And no one wants to make out with me.”

 

“I made out with you,” Chris points out.

 

Viktor rolls his eyes and purses his lips in what can only be considered a pout. “You’re different,” he sighs heavily, his breath catching on a thought. “I got tangled in Makkachin’s fur last week—” he throws his arms up, exasperated—“for two hours! I had to call Yakov to free us! Stop laughing, it’s not funny!”

 

“Sorry,” Chris chokes out. He covers his mouth with his hand and lowers himself next to Viktor. “Sorry,” he repeats when he’s calmed. He cradles his palm against Viktor’s lower back, massages circles into it—his rings catching on sequins. “You’re Viktor Nikiforov. If anyone can make braces look good, it’s you.”

 

Viktor pinches his lip into a skeptical grimace, but he preens under the compliment—his blush evident even in the dim, yellow streetlights. “Who in their right mind would find these attractive?”

 

(Six thousand miles away, a fifteen-year-old Yuuri pours over his favorite figure skating forum, the relative silence of his room punctuated by a soft gasp when he stumbles across a recent photo of Viktor—leaning against the boards with his head tilted against his hand—flashing the camera with a peace sign and a bright, gold-bracketed smile.)

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable [here](http://youremarvelous.tumblr.com/post/171095447728/braceface)


End file.
